


To Be Who We Are

by thalia_cinder_03



Series: All of Stucky [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, 1940s Stucky, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Emotions, Fluff, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Repressed Memories, Stucky - Freeform, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalia_cinder_03/pseuds/thalia_cinder_03
Summary: “Why is it so hard?” Steve finally asked.Bucky wasn’t looking at him, but even still, he instinctively made his puzzled face. “Why is what so hard?”“To be who we are,” Steve finished, a little sad in tone, rather than the apprehensiveness that was there before.----------------A past/present stucky one shot
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: All of Stucky [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933795
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	To Be Who We Are

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this instead of doing my math homework? Yes. Yes I did. So y'all better enjoy it bc I will be facing the consequences tomorrow. <3

_ (1942) _

_ Bucky sighed into the back of Steve’s neck, sinking into the feeling of holding him here, just like this. His tiny body was enveloped in Bucky’s larger ones, just barely skin and bone. It was always like this in the dead of winter, when money was the most scarce and the cold kept Steve sick and bedridden sometimes. Bucky was always scared that if he let go in the middle of the night, Steve might just float away from him. Might just drift off and never come back to him. So he held him close, barely any air between them, just to make sure he would still be here when he woke up.  _

_ He listened to the shaky, cold breaths that left Steve’s mouth in even intervals, and felt the rise and fall of his chest from between his arms. His head was tucked under Bucky’s neck, hair tickling the underside of his chin, threatening to make him start giggling like a little kid. He had always been super ticklish, but he forced his body to stay still. It obeyed, knowing the importance of letting Steve sleep.  _

_ Bucky let his eyes fall shut again, attempting on sleeping. He tried to block out all the other sounds, the snow falling outside, the sound of cars rolling down the street, the hum of someone’s electric stove through the thin walls. He just focused on Steve’s even breaths, each breath in and out bringing him a greater sense of calm. Just before he was about to drift off, he felt movement from Steve beneath him. “Buck?” he whispered, barely audible. It wouldn’t have woken him up if he had really been fast asleep.  _

_ “Yeah?” he asked, keeping himself hushed. Sure they were both awake, but if they started talking at a normal volume it would just turn into a conversation, and then they’d never get to sleep. _

_ He felt even more movement, and Steve fully turned himself around so that he was now facing Bucky, while staying wrapped in his arms. His head was still resting on Bucky’s arm, so it was a little below him. He looked up at Bucky, who’s eyes were half closed, blue eyes staring up at him so sweetly. Somehow, they reminded him of ice, yet they were soft. It was like if there was a daisy made of ice. It was the type of look that made him just want to kiss him all over, all night, and never let him go. Bucky pulled him in a little closer, a little higher, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Oh,” Steve said, a little pink rising to the tops of his cheeks. “Hi.” _

_ “Hi, Stevie.” He stared into Steve’s eyes, and frowned a bit. Something was just… off. “What’s wrong?” _

_ “Nothing’s wrong, Buck,” he replied, leaning further in, tucking his head back under Bucky’s.  _

_ Bucky rubbed a hand on Steve’s back. “Are you feeling alright?” _

_ “Yeah, of course I am. Never been better,” he insisted, though there wasn’t much fight in his voice.  _

_ “Bullshit,” Bucky retorted. “What is it?” _

_ “Buck…”  _

_ “Hey,” he interrupted and kissed the top of Steve’s head. “Tell me.” _

_ Steve sighed. “It’s just…” the words died out before they left his mouth.  _

_ Bucky nuzzled his face into the top of Steve’s head in encouragement.  _

_ “Why is it so hard?” he finally asked.  _

_ He wasn’t looking at Steve, but even still, he instinctively made his puzzled face. “Why is what so hard?” _

_ “To be who we are,” Steve finished, a little sad in tone, rather than the apprehensiveness that was there before.  _

_ Bucky sighed, understanding what he meant, and knowing that he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just hold Steve’s hand outside this dingy apartment, why they couldn’t go have a romantic picnic. Why they had to be satisfied with an arm around the shoulder or a pat on the back when they went out, why they couldn’t kiss on the top deck of a ferry. Why it was so hard, he didn’t know.  _

_ He kissed Steve’s forehead. “I don’t know, Stevie. I don’t know.”  _

_ The conversation had ended there, Steve drifting off again and Bucky following a few minutes later. _

_ He'd been drafted the next day. _

\------------------

_ (Present day) _

Bucky woke up with the sun, which came beaming in through the giant window in his room. Through the window, he could see it was snowing out, probably freezing cold, so he silently thanked the inventor of central heating for the tenth time this week. His arms and legs were wrapped around one of his pillows. He didn’t quite know why, but he couldn’t sleep without holding something in front of him. 

He moved the pillow to the side of the bed and stretched out, arm making a few clicking sounds. He really hated that. Wished it would just shut up instead of announcing its presence whenever he moved. Steve said Tony might be able to help him with that, make it stop. He had originally been all for the idea, until his memories began to come back. Now he could barely face the guy. 

His memories. They were causing him an issue. When Steve had found him after the events of the helicarrier, he had remembered little to nothing. Everything he knew about himself came from a wall in Steve’s museum. The logical part of him had figured it would be safe to go with the guy that the museum said he was inseparable from, and if it wasn’t, he would deal with it. Fortunately, it was safe. He’d been staying with Steve and all his friends for a while, long enough that he had gone many weeks without his memory being wiped. He assumed that was why his memories had been coming back to him. 

The first memories he got weren’t his favourites. They were mainly of war, bloodshed, pain, everything he worked so hard to repress. He had almost passed out in tears before Steve found him when he remembered some of the things he had done. 

They got better though. He started to remember happy things, parties, friends, things that he enjoyed back in the forties, before the war of course. They were normally pretty foggy, but one of his favourite memories, what he believed was his little sister Becca’s fifteenth birthday party, was clear as day. Bucky and Steve had worked with a few of her friends and surprised her in the park, and the smile on her face shone like a star. Steve was really happy that Becca was happy, she had always been like his little sister too. It had been a fun day. Sometimes, when he had an extremely bad day, he would try to go back to that memory and relive it all. 

He had known that one was real because he asked Steve about it immediately. That was how he checked if all his memories were real, or at least if they were what he thought they were. Sometimes he got a memory and thought it was just a party, when it turned out to have been their graduation. He did that for all of them, that is until he thought he remembered something that… that just couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. 

He made his way to his closet and put on some of the clothes that had been bought for him, he didn’t really feel like going to stores himself yet. He put on a pair of blue jeans and grey T-shirt, before heading out his bedroom door and into the common space of Steve’s floor, which he was currently intruding on. Steve didn’t seem to mind though, apparently they’d shared an apartment back in the day anyway so it was sort of nostalgic. 

He entered the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the little table, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. His hair was longer than usual right now, and it was pushed back, but a few pieces hung over his forehead. It was still wet from his morning shower, which he took everyday after his run with Sam, so it was a little darker than normal too. His shirt clung to him just a bit. “Morning, Buck,” he greeted, smiling in Bucky’s direction. 

“Morning,” he smiled back. He was never really (from what he could tell) a morning person, but he always got happy around Steve. It was like he messed with the air that Bucky was breathing.

“There’s still coffee in the pot,” Steve said, ruffling the paper as he flipped the page. 

“Great,” Bucky said, picking up the pot, which still had quite a bit of weight to it. He poured a cup, placed a couple slices of bread in the toaster and took his seat across from Steve. “How was your run?”

“Pretty good,” he chuckled. “Sam almost ran over a little kid trying to catch up.”

“Oh god,” Bucky laughed. “I can imagine the headlines now. ‘Supposed heroes trample small child.’”

Steve shook his head and burst out laughing. “Now, that would be something.”

Bucky grinned. It always felt good to laugh with Steve. “Hey, I think I remembered something last night.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asked, knowing Bucky was about to ask him to clarify. He set his paper flat down on the table. “What is it?”

“Well,” he started, before stopping, taken aback. He looked down at Steve’s paper, which he could now see the inside articles of. He leaned back, tilting his head to try and get a better read of the title. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the article. 

“Oh,” Steve said after a moment of trying to decipher what he was talking about. “It’s called a pride parade. It’s like, a celebration for gay people. Pretty long history.”

Bucky frowned. “They’re allowed to do that?” He had no issue with it. He was pretty sure that came across, but his brain spun through different states of confusion. “No one’s stopping them?”

“Well,” Steve cocked his head a bit, and pursed his lips. “There are people out there who might not like it, but a lot of people are okay with it too. Some people go just to support, not even because they’re gay.”

“Oh,” he said, after a moment of hesitation. “That’s pretty good. Not as hard as it used to be.”

“Definitely,” Steve added. “It's a lot easier to be who they are.”

_ Click.  _

There was a click. But it wasn’t his arm, it was in his brain. The gears were turning. He almost lost his vision as memories came flooding back to him. Sleeping with something cuddled underneath him, no, not a pillow. Hands around his neck. Skin against his skin. Brushing his lips against someone’s ear. Running his hands through their hair.

_ “Why is it so hard?” Steve finally asked.  _

_ Bucky wasn’t looking at him, but even still, he instinctively made his puzzled face. “Why is what so hard?” _

_ “To be who we are,” Steve finished, a little sad in tone, rather than the apprehensiveness that was there before.  _

He felt his eyes beginning to water. Oh god, he wanted it to be real. He wanted these to be memories so bad, not just daydreams. He didn’t want to be misinterpreting this. He felt tears beginning to trickle from his eyes, regardless of how much he was willing them away, and he turned his head away, down and to the side.  _ Get yourself together, Barnes. _

“Buck?” Steve asked, reaching a hand out to his. He rubbed his thumb in soothing little circles. “Buck, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he attempted to murmur, but it was muffled as he choked back a sob. 

“Hey,” Steve walked around the side of the table, not letting go of his hand. He knelt down, looking up at Bucky so that he could see his face, so that Bucky couldn’t really turn away. “Tell me.” 

Bucky laughed a bit at the irony, though the tears and the sobs didn’t stop. “That’s what I told you,” he muttered, almost inaudible. 

“What did you tell me?” Steve asked. Curse this man and his incredible hearing. 

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve gotta remember it if you’re crying about it,” Steve reasoned. 

“I-,” he choked. If he was wrong, then he was about to screw everything up, just when it had gotten so good. “I don’t know… I don’t know if it’s real,” he pushed out eventually. 

“Then ask me,” Steve said, brushing a tear off his cheek. “You can always ask me, Buck.” His hand met the side of Bucky’s jaw, and rested on the side of his neck.

Bucky tilted his head up a bit, looking Steve straight in his beautiful blue eyes. They reminded him of ice, but they were so soft, so sweet, that he struggled to understand how this man went into battle every week. His lips looked so soft. He was just so perfect. Bucky took a few seconds to savour this moment, just in case everything went wrong. “Kiss me?” he whispered, like a secret. 

Steve’s jaw dropped a little and for a moment Bucky panicked. But then, just as soft as he had looked before, he smiled. He looked at Bucky with a gaze of wonder. “Okay,” he whispered back, before leaning in and up. He brushed their lips together, so soft and sweet. It was everything. He was everything. He was  _ Bucky’s _ everything. It was chaste and simple but that was all Bucky needed. 

“Stevie,” he said delicately. He leaned forward and, this time, he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, sliding off his chair and onto Steve’s lap. He didn’t care that they were sitting on the floor now, and he hoped Steve didn’t care either. “My Stevie.”

“Yeah, Buck,” he replied, wrapping his now larger body around Bucky’s now smaller one. “I’m right here.” 

“Don’t leave,” Bucky said, needily. He didn’t know where this rush of emotion was coming from, but he couldn’t stop it. Not that he really wanted to. 

“I won’t leave. Not now. Not when we can be who we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have realized I use the word "soft" like way too often. Alternate suggestions are being taken lol :)


End file.
